


It's the Thread Count I Really Care About

by ThoseWhoFavorFire



Series: Just One Mistake (To Dust or To Gold) [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, One Night Stand, Someone stop me, no please don't, post-AoU, post-season one of Daredevil, there is sex, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 21:45:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4196034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoseWhoFavorFire/pseuds/ThoseWhoFavorFire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em> "You take the full, full truth then you pour some out/ You can kill me, kill me or let God sort ‘em out/ I wish I dreamt in the shape of your mouth/ But it’s the thread count I really care about." </em><br/>Title and idea inspired by American Beauty/American Psycho- Fall Out Boy</p><p>Matt and Steve are both looking to escape for one night and they find what they need in each other, strangers in a random bar in New York City. One night stand, no strings attached. At least, that's what they think.</p><p>Matt/Steve, Matt POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's the Thread Count I Really Care About

**Author's Note:**

> This is Post Daredevil- Season 1 and Post-Age of Ultron. Matt's point of view, the stuff in parenthesis and italics are Matt's thoughts.

Matthew Murdock was having a bad day.

No, that wasn’t quite accurate.

Matthew Murdock was having a bad week? No. Month? No. Year? He supposed so.

It didn’t matter though, not tonight.

~ 

The Fourth of July.

Matt had a particular tradition that he has kept up since he was in college. It wasn’t like most people’s traditions though. No, most patriotic Americans spent their Independence Day at block parties and barbecues: lighting fireworks, waving American flags and throwing parades.

He didn’t like the Fourth of July. The Fourth was loud. It seemed unavoidable, with all the drinking, celebrating and fireworks. Now, he didn’t begrudge people their fun, but he preferred to stay away. So, while the rest of the country and New York City celebrated, Matthew Murdock went to the most uncrowded, quiet bar in NYC to find a way to distract himself. If said distraction was found in the form of an attractive man or woman looking for just one fantastic night, all the better.

Several hours and several boring conversations later, Matt was almost ready to give up and just turn in for the night. It would be a shame to break such a great tradition, but there was no one in this bar that really seemed to be worth his time.

That was, until _he_ walked in.

6 feet tall. 194 pounds of pure muscle. Strong, steady heartbeat. He smelled like leather and graphite and paint. No cologne. An artist…an artist who drives a motorcycle? Matt was still reeling from the muscle definition. He tried to turn his brain off, reminding himself not to care _who_ he was. All that mattered was if he was attractive ( _check_ ), into men ( _undetermined_ ) and not currently with anyone or talking to anyone ( _check_ ).

He couldn’t help but smile a little when the man walked over, sliding onto the bar stool next to his. Matt took another sip of his drink, finishing it off just as the man was ordering his.

“I’ll have a Samuel Adams,” the man said casually to the bartender, glancing over at Matt. Matt could practically _hear_ him debating whether or not to talk to him. He heard that small breath in that people take when debating speaking, along with the minute change in his heart rate. “I’d like to buy you a drink, if that’s okay with you.”

Into men ( _check_ ).

“And they said chivalry was dead,” Matt replied, pausing and sliding the glass over to the bartender, feeling the grains of wood brush against his arm.

“Not to me,” the other said with a shrug.

“Well then how can I say no,” he chuckled.

"I'm Steve."

"Matt," he replied, holding out a hand for Steve to shake. Steve took it, shaking it and letting go. When they fell into silence for a moment, he could tell that Steve was checking him out. It was usually around now that people figured out Matt was blind. Steve seemed to, but he didn’t mention it. Matt almost let out a sigh in relief. No questions about him being blind. This was a good start…a great start.

~

Two drinks later and Matthew had realized three things.

First, he realized that neither of them seemed to be affected by the alcohol. Next, Matt had realized that he was done waiting. He wanted to leave this small, hole in the wall bar. Lastly, Matt had realized that this man was somehow charming ( _Not that I care_ ), well-meaning ( _No strings attached, remember?_ ) and intelligent ( _I’m just looking for a spectacular one night stand, really I am_ ). If circumstance were different (and Matt wasn’t, well... a vigilante with a dubious moral code and no room for a serious relationship in his life) he could easily see this turning into something else entirely. Matt was Daredevil though, and both parties remained specifically vague.

It didn’t take the full two drinks to realize that Steve would be coming with him when he left the bar. Matt was, however, pleasantly surprised to find out over the course of their conversation that Steve was staying in a nearby hotel for the night ( _truth_ ), that he was here in the city for business ( _lie_ ), that he wasn’t dating anyone ( _truth_ ), and that he had a motorcycle waiting out front, if Matt wanted to come with him ( _motorcycle, called it_ ).

When they exited the bar, Steve casually offered Matt his arm. Matt took it gratefully, being led over to the motorcycle with ease. Steve didn’t make a big deal of it, and Matt would be lying if he tried to tell himself he wasn’t charmed ( _good thing I’m great at lying to myself_ ).

~

 Although he liked to think he didn’t typically make assumptions about things (beyond observations and inferences that stemmed from his training and senses of course), Matt was surprised when he walked into the hotel with Steve. It wasn’t, as he had expected, a shitty hole-in-the-wall motel. Rather, it was a brand new hotel (he could smell fresh paint from one of the unopened wings) that had to be rated at least 4 out of 5 stars. He wasn’t sure why Steve claimed to be from out of town, or why he would rent a nice hotel room to stay in the city, but he decided not to question it. Some things were just better left unasked.

Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered, right?

Besides, it would be unfair to start asking questions and not be willing to give answers to any of the countless questions Steve must have.

As they made their way through the lobby and to an elevator, he could feel the other’s smile. Steve seemed to be…checking him out again? Yes, that definitely was what was happening. Matt couldn’t help but feel flattered. Of course, Matt knew he was attractive, he had gotten far too much attention to not be considered attractive. Still, he couldn’t help but like the fact that the attention was coming from Steve.

“Didn’t have anything better to do on the Fourth of July?” Steve asked out of the blue as they waited in the elevator, seemingly stopping at every floor as other people got out.

“No, you?”

Steve shrugged a little, “I like to celebrate my birthday in my own way.”

Birthday. Interesting. Matt fought not to begin analyzing. Anonymity: Matthew had gone looking for it tonight and it seemed Steve had as well. If Matt got to walk away from this with the other man not knowing who he was, Steve deserved the same.

Matt made sure his nose didn’t wrinkle when the swaying inebriated man who was standing in front of them burped. He sighed a little, focusing Steve and memorizing every detail to try to block out the less pleasant stimuli. As they brushed against each other, he could hear Steve’s heart rate speed up just a few beats. It was going to be a fun night.

If only they could get to the right fucking floor.

~

The door hadn’t even clicked shut behind them before Steve had him pinned against the closest wall. He kissed Matt roughly. The kisses were like fireworks: quick, hot and passionate. Matt found his hands suddenly pinned above his head ( _Fuck, he is strong_ ) as Steve playfully nipped at his lower lip.

He literally couldn’t have found a more perfect hook up. Eventually, Steve let go of his arms, but said " _stay"_   with conviction and, for once, he was more than happy to comply as Steve nimbly unbuttoned Matt’s shirt.

As hands slid over bare flesh, he could feel the individual ridges of Steve’s fingerprints. All his senses had been kicked even more into overdrive with his arousal. He arched into Steve’s touch as the man explored his fit but marred body. At this point, Matt wouldn’t be surprised if he had more bruised and scarred skin than unblemished. Steve let out a small, sharp breath in surprise, and Matt briefly froze, waiting for Steve to ask about it.

He didn’t.

Matt let out a sigh of relief as Steve peeled Matt’s increasingly constricting pants off his body. Steve’s lips crashed onto his again and Steve lifted him. Matt’s legs wrapped around Steve’s waist automatically, his hands falling to knot in Steve’s hair.

Steve walked quickly across the room, managing to navigate around the television stand and dresser without separating their lips. He placed Matt on the bed, shedding his own clothing quickly and grabbing a small bottle of lube and a condom from the nightstand.

Matt had a moment to catch his breath and, despite how ridiculous it was, he couldn’t help but appreciate how high the thread count of the sheets were. They didn’t irritate his skin like most sheets did, especially considering the fact that they were hotel bedding. His attention was brought back to Steve as the man finally climbed back onto the bed and on top of Matt.

It wasn’t long before Matt was squirming under his ministrations, begging for _more_ as one, two and finally three fingers were stretching him. Steve paused as Matt whined at the loss of fingers, “You good?”

“ _Now_ , Steve,” he growled as a response.

Steve fucked him roughly, and it’s exactly what Matt wanted. No matter how good in bed most people Matt met were, they all treated him like glass. It had been years since he had found someone who was able to provide that sweet mix of pain and pleasure that he craved. Matt clung to the sheets, a string of curses and moans mixed with the pleas of “ _Harder_ ”, “ _Faster_ ”, “ _Rougher_ ” and “ _More_ ” falling from Matt’s lips.

When he climaxed, Matt swore he hadn’t felt that good in years.

~

Matt wasn’t sure what surprised him more: the fact that he had actually fallen asleep last night in a stranger’s hotel room ( _But how could I not? Especially with the way Steve had traced patterns lazily on my back as we collapsed, completely spent_ ) or the fact that Steve wasn’t there when he woke up. It was damn near impossible to breathe without waking Matt, so he wasn’t quite sure how Steve had managed to clean up and leave.

Groaning, he rolled over. Reaching out, Matt found his cane leaning against the bed. Clearly, Steve had picked it up from wherever Matt had tossed it, moving it somewhere easier for him to find. Despite himself, Matt found himself smiling at the kind gesture. When he grabbed it, he once again found himself surprised by the man he had spent the night with.

There was a small square of paper taped to the handle of the walking stick, somewhere that Matt wouldn’t be able to miss it. He brushed his fingers over the cards, feeling the tiny holes poked into the card. Braille, Steve had written him a note in braille.

 

**Matt,**

**I had a great night. Feel free to order breakfast and charge it to the room. My card is on file. Thanks.**

**Best,**

**Steve**

 

Matt shook his head, his smile growing. He grabbed his clothing, which had been nicely folded and left on the edge of the bed. Pressing the button on the top of his phone, it spit out the time, “9:27 A.M.” He knew that congested public transit was in store for him (he had purposefully looked for a bar far away from Hell’s Kitchen in order to not be recognized, but that meant it would take some time to get across the city). He did have to go into work today and, although coming in late was a habit of his, he didn’t want to have to answer too many of Karen’s questions about where he had been. He got dressed quickly, making a mental note to stop at home before heading into the office so that he wouldn’t be in the same clothing as yesterday.

As he was walking out of the hotel, he had just set a steady pace to the nearest subway station when his phone started ringing. Of course, Foggy.

“How was your night Matt?” Foggy asked, and Matt could actually _hear_ his knowing smirk. Foggy, of course, was aware of his tradition that stretched back to their college days.

“It was fine Foggy, I’m headed into work.”

“I’m surprised you’re even up to be honest,” Foggy chuckled, “Just fine? Come on, was he hot? Of course he was hot, you always know when they are hot.”

Matt felt his cheeks turn red, “How do you know it was a guy? I don’t know what you want me to tell you Foggy, I had a great night.”

“I am all-knowing of course. So I’ll see you in the office later then? I’m on my way to bribe a cop… again.”

“I thought we were past that Foggy. Besides, didn’t Brett’s grandma quit smoking?”

"It doesn’t hurt to _actually_ try to get some more clients Matt. She did quit, but I found out she also has a soft spot for chocolates from Belgium. I’m glad you had a good night though,” Foggy replied sincerely.

“Me too, Foggy. Me too,” Matt mumbled as he hung up the phone ( _too bad it was only one night_ ). He pushed all thoughts of Steve away, focusing on the sights and sounds of New York City. He had a good time, but Matt doubted he’d ever run into the Steve again.

**Author's Note:**

> That's what he thinks.
> 
> So, my first adventure into Daredevil fanfiction, and my first fanfic in awhile. I was planning on just lurking on A03, but I think the world needs more Matt/Steve. The sex is pretty vague here, I have plans for more explicit stuff in the future of this series.
> 
> This is the first part of a series, leading up to a plot line influenced by Civil War. The current plan is a 7 part series, but we will see how it plays out. Some parts will be in Matt's perspective, some will be in Steve's. Would anyone like to see this part in Steve's perspective? I could always write it and add it as a second chapter to this part or add it as flashbacks later.
> 
> Oh, title is obviously inspired by Matt's little comment in season one about thread count and the FOB song American Beauty/American Psycho. I highly recommend you listen to it with this part in mind. The series title "Just One Mistake (To Dust or To Gold" is inspired by Centuries by Fall Out Boy, which should make sense down the line. Every part will be titled after/inspired by a song off the same album.
> 
> Next Up: Saints (Just Swimming in Our Sins Again)- Matt and Steve meet as Daredevil and Captain America


End file.
